


I Don't Believe You

by therealspm



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Fisting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealspm/pseuds/therealspm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But that’s not what I’m writing this letter to tell you.  I’m writing this to say that I am still completely and totally batshit in love with you.  I was then and—no matter where my life goes from here—I will keep on loving you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Believe You

I don’t believe you.

 

Chris jolts awake when those four words invade his dream. The syllables echo around his consciousness, words growing hollow as they fade. This is not the first time he’s had this dream, and it probably won’t be the last; it’s the only nightmare he’s had for years. There was a time when he hardly went a night without waking up in the early moments of dawn, face and pillow wet with tears, hands shaking.

 

As a kid, his father would always reassure him whenever he woke from a nightmare. “It was only a dream,” he would whisper into Chris’s hair, arms engulfing the young boy. Chris longs for the same reassurance today. He wants someone to tell him that it wasn’t real, that his mind made the whole thing up. And he wants that someone to be Zach.

 

But it is real. It did happen. And Zach is nowhere to be found.

 

Chris gets out of his bed, trying—and failing—to push the nightmare out of his thoughts. Though he can feel the beginnings of hunger pulling at his stomach, he grabs his laptop and climbs back under the covers.

 

He opens a blank text document and stares at the blinking cursor for a few minutes before he finally begins to type:

 

Dear Zach,

 

I had that dream again. It’s been almost six months since the last time. I was afraid it was gone for good.

 

It’s strange, I know, to cherish a nightmare, to look forward to that heavy-lidded, crusty-eyelash feeling that means I’ve been crying in my sleep. It’s morbid to cling to the ache that settles beneath my ribcage, pulsing in the spot only you could ever make me feel. But the thing is, these things—the nightmares, the tears, the pain—they’re part of what I have left of you. And I don’t want to give them up, because I’m not willing to lose any more of you than I already have.

 

I think that’s why I write you these letters. So I can feel like I’m talking to you. So I can remember, and so I can have those memories written down, in case I forget them like I’ve already forgotten so much. So at least I can keep our story.

 

When it comes down to it, looking back, we really didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into, did we?

 

***

 

Chris’s adult life consisted of a series of failed relationships. It was always the same. He would meet some girl, get together, fall in love, and take step after inexorable step into commitment. But no matter how he felt about them—and he did feel, let’s get that straight right now, he felt deeply—he always held something back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but every time he thought about giving himself over so completely to another person his heart would race, his palms would sweat, and he would find himself struggling to even breathe.

 

So naturally he was scared shitless the day he realized that Zach’s and his relationship had morphed from a weirdly defined bromance into something with decidedly less use of the letter ‘b’.

 

After a particularly long day of filming, Zach and Chris were sitting on what passed for a couch in Chris’s trailer. Zach had his back resting against the armrest and his legs wrapped loosely around Chris’s waist, hands kneading into his sore shoulders. Chris felt so comfortable wrapped up in his friend’s warm body, the tension eased away by deft hands that he found himself slowly slipping into sleep.

 

He must have begun to snore because suddenly Zach had stopped the massage and was chuckling. “I think we should probably head home,” Zach said.

 

Chris groaned and made no move to get up, instead twisting around slightly so that his head was resting against Zach’s chest. His arm became uncomfortably trapped beneath his torso and he wiggled it loose and slung it loosely around Zach’s waist. He was still half asleep when he replied, “Dun’ wanna. So far. Comfy here.”

 

Zach laughed softly, “Clearly as you’re having difficulty forming complete sentences, you’re probably not in the adequate mindset to drive at this juncture.”

 

Chris burrowed deeper into Zach’s chest at the onslaught of multisyllabic words that were coming at him, “Wha? ‘m confused.”

 

With Zach’s chin resting on the top of his head Chris could feel his smile, “Just sleep for a while, k? Everything will make more sense in a bit.”

 

That was something Chris was more than willing to do. He sighed deeply and wiggled around just a bit to find the most comfortable position, enjoying how his and Zach’s bodies seemed to fit together so well. They lay in silence for a while, just breathing. Chris faded in and out of sleep. During a period when he was hovering on the edge of sleeping and waking, an errant thought struck him, This isn’t normal.

 

Apparently he had actually spoken the thought aloud because Zach stiffened slightly underneath him and asked softly, as if he was afraid to wake Chris completely, “What’s not normal.”

 

“This,” Chris mumbled. He felt that should explain everything, but he could still feel the tension in Zach’s body and so he added, “We’re not friends.”

 

That seemed to only make matters worse. “Oh,” Zach said twisting his body around so that he was sitting forward with his feet flat on the ground in front of the couch. Chris wasn’t able to adjust to the new arrangement and fell face-first into Zach’s lap.

 

“Whazzay?” Chris said into Zach’s thigh. Twisting his head so that he was no longer getting a mouthful of jeans, Chris tried again, “What’d I say?”

 

“I must have misunderstood.”

 

Chris frowned, putting on his best pensive-face, “Dunno what I said.”

 

“’We’re not friends’,” Zach quoted.

 

“Since when?” Chris was having trouble shaking the sleep from his mind, and the utter confusion he was feeling in this conversation wasn’t helping.

 

“You’re the one who said it.”

 

“When?”

 

“Like five seconds ago.”

 

“Oh. Oops.” Zach remained stiff and uncomfortable, clearly not understanding everything those two words were meant to convey. Chris made the executive decision that this was not a conversation to be had with his face in Zach’s crotch and forced himself to sit up, despite protests from the lazy part of his mind. “Of course we’re friends, man.”

 

Chris looked over at Zach and saw his friend look completely devastated for a second before his face formed a puzzled expression, “But you just said…”

 

“If everything I said while I was half-asleep was true then I’m superman and my mom is the queen of England.”

 

Zach relaxed, “So you don’t think we’re not normal.”

 

Chris hesitated and in that second watched Zach’s face fall into sadness again before forming into a carefully blank expression. Shit. “I think what my completely brain-dead self was trying to say was that friends don’t usually—” he paused trying to think of a less childish, more manly word to put at the end of the sentence, but found none, “cuddle.”

 

Frowning, Zach shifted further away from Chris on the sofa, “That’s fine. We can stop.”

 

Chris rolled his eyes, “I never said I wanted to stop.”

 

“Then what the fuck are you trying to say, Christopher?” Wow! Cussing and using his full name. Chris hadn’t known Zach was that agitated by this conversation.

 

“I’m trying to say that I think we’re definitely more than friends at this point,” the words had bypassed his brain-to-mouth filter, since Chris had actually had no intention of answering Zach’s question so truthfully. He gulped in a breath of air as if he could take back the sentence hanging in the stale air of the trailer.

 

There really was no turning back at this point was there. Chris had said what he’d said and there was no way Zach was going to let him get out of this conversation now. “I mean that we spend all our time together, and we cuddle, and you give me massages, and I like the hanging and the cuddling and the massages and I like being close to you—in every sense of the word—a lot and in ways that are incredibly not friend-like and fuck it would you punch me in the face if I kissed you right now?” The rambling grammatically atrocious sentence had come out of Chris’s mouth like verbal diarrhea and all that was left was to brace himself for the inevitable feeling of Zach’s fist connecting with his face.

 

Instead, Zach just said one word, “No.”

 

“No what?”

 

“No I won’t punch you.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The pair sat in silence for a full two minutes before Chris mustered up what was left of his courage and shifted to that he was straddling Zach, effectively trapping him there, just in case. Chris placed his hand on Zach’s cheek and leaned forward so that his lips were mere centimeters away from their goal. The men breathed each other’s breath for second after interminable second. Chris’s lips tingled with anticipation, and he could feel his pulse pounding at a speed that his personal trainer would frown at. He licked his lips and just-barely pressed his lips against Zach’s.

 

***

 

Our first kiss, Zach, do you remember it? The confusion, the frustration, the all-or-nothing resolve. It was so soft, not at all what I was expecting. Our lips fit together so well, and when I kissed you and held your face in my hands it felt so simple, so natural.

 

I didn’t mean to make it sound like it’s all nightmares and pain and heartache when it comes to you. Because, really, there are so many wonderful memories that are practically euphoric. The truth is, it wouldn’t hurt so much if there weren’t things like that kiss to remember. A couple nights ago I dreamt that I was back in that trailer, engulfed in your body. I relived that first kiss over and over, just like when I used to watch certain parts of movies over and over until I took in every detail.

 

But then I woke up. And it hurt so much to realize that I wasn’t still in that trailer, tasting your lips for the first time, that I was here, in this time, without you.

 

***

 

“I’m scared,” the words came out of Chris’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them. He spoke barely above a whisper but the sound seemed to echo and grow in the silent room.

 

It was nearly a month after their first kiss, and it was supposed to be their first time having sex. Zach was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and leaning back slightly, his hands paused in the middle of undoing the buttons of his jeans. Chris hovered in the doorway, averting his gaze from Zach’s half-naked form, unable to step over the threshold. He felt the palms of his hands grow slick with sweat and looked down to see that they were shaking.

 

The silence seemed to stretch for eons before Zach spoke, “Of what?”

 

Chris wished he knew, wished he could find a reason for why he was having trouble breathing and his vision was swarming with yellow dots. “I don’t know.”

 

“Chris,” Zach sighed, standing and moving towards him. Chris stifled an involuntary flinch, hoping the other man wouldn’t notice. “It’ll be fine. If gay sex weren’t fun, then we wouldn’t keep doing it, would we?”

 

“It’s not the sex. I mean, yeah it’s a worry, but…,” he trailed off again, unable to find words for what he was feeling.

 

“But what?” Chris could see Zach retreating from the conversation, from the room, drawing into himself. He looked into Zach’s brown eyes and saw the distance between them growing.

 

“But I don’t know.”

 

Zach threw up his arms in exasperation and glared at Chris. Without words, he grabbed his T-shirt and slipped back into it, the cotton material stretching tightly over his chest. “Whatever. We can try the sex thing some other time.” Zach walked towards the doorway, apparently expecting Chris to move aside so that he could storm out in righteous anger. Chris stood his ground.

 

“It’s not the sex!” he said a little too loudly. Chris took advantage of their closeness and grabbed Zach’s face in his hands, oversensitive palms tingling at the contact with the coarse stubble on his cheeks and jaw. Chris pressed their mouths together in a deep, long, devouring kiss. Zach was taken aback for a moment before he met Chris’s enthusiasm with a similar abandon. They pulled apart reluctantly, and Chris’s lips ached with the loss of contact. He met Zach’s dark eyes and spoke, “God, Zach, I want you so fucking much that it does scare me.” Zach frowned, “But in a good way, you know, all adrenaline and excitement. It’s just that,” Chris paused for a moment to consider what he was about to say, “it feels like we’re at a precipice. And I can’t see where I’m going.” He kissed Zach again, softly, lips lingering for a mere second, “I just don’t want to fall.”

 

They stared at each other, pale blue eyes meeting dark brown ones for second after interminable second. Zach broke the contact first, looking down and to the side for a moment before crushing his body into Chris’s, pushing him back into the wall and grinding their hips together. They kissed, all tongues and teeth and swollen lips, and as Chris sunk into the feeling of Zach’s body moving against his, he thought for a moment that falling maybe wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

 

Chris came up for air, pulling away from the kiss to catch his breath. When they kissed again, it was softer, less crushing, but the sensation on his already too-sensitive mouth sent shockwaves through his body and he felt his pants stretch tight over his growing erection. Zach smiled into the kiss in response and a low chuckle escaped from his mouth.

 

“Apparently you do want this,” Zach said as he pressed his lips up and down the vein on the side of Chris’s neck.

 

Chris tried to think of a witty way to say ‘I told you so,’ but Zach’s lips felt so good, and the way that his hands were roaming up and down his chest made Chris forget the meaning of the word witty. Instead he pleaded breathlessly, “Ithinkthisisthepartwherewetakeoffourclothes.”

 

Zach laughed again and hooked his pointer fingers into the belt loops of Chris’s jeans pulling him back towards the bed. When his knees hit the foot of the bed, Zach quickly slipped out of his shirt and pants so that he was left in only his navy blue briefs, his hard-on straining the front of the underwear. He reached up under the hem of Chris’s shirt and scraped his fingers up and down his front and back, nails tickling trails that ignited sparks throughout Chris’s body.

 

Before he knew it, Chris’s shirt and jeans were lying crumpled on the floor and Zach had reached one hand into his boxer-briefs and had formed his thumb and middle finger into a ring around Chris’s now rock-hard cock. He slid his hand up and down the shaft, moving at a snails pace, and Chris bucked and moaned in an effort to get him to speed up.

 

Instead, Zach withdrew his hand and stood up, “Lie down on the edge of the bed and take your underwear off.”

 

If Chris hadn’t wanted to do exactly that, and if he hadn’t been so turned on that he couldn’t see straight he might of said ‘Go to hell’ instead of silently complying. Zach stepped out of his briefs as Chris lay down on the bed. Zach climbed on top of him and proceeded to kiss a trail up and down his chest, biceps, neck, and abdomen. Chris gasped when he nipped lightly at a spot just beneath his ribs and then soothed the sting with his tongue.

 

When Chris was panting and writhing, awash in the sensations of his body and so over-stimulated he could hardly think straight, Zach shifted so that his face was level with Chris’s crotch and grabbed hold of his erection. He licked his lips once before taking just the tip into his mouth. Zach hollowed out his cheeks and began to slide his mouth up and down Chris’s shaft, taking a little more of him in with each movement until he was completely sheathed in Zach’s mouth. Zach pulled away and took a couple of deep breaths before beginning the process again.

 

Chris tried to sink into the sensation of himself encased in the warm wetness of Zach’s mouth, but the more he tried to focus on the feeling, the more the room faded into the background and the more his thoughts began to take over. He found he was having difficulty breathing again, in a way that had nothing to do with arousal, and the hands he had placed on Zach’s shoulders to steady himself were shaking once again.

 

Hoarsely, Chris called out, “Zach, stop,” but Zach didn’t hear him. Chris tried again with no result before he dug his fingers into Zach’s shoulders, hoping the sensation would make him pause long enough for Chris to say what he needed to.

 

Zach jerked his head back quickly and glared at Chris over his erection. “What the hell man! I could have bitten you.”

 

Chris looked down his torso sheepishly, “Oh, I didn’t really think about it.”

 

“Jesus Christ!”

 

“You weren’t listening to me. I wanted you to stop.”

 

Zach frowned, “And now it makes even less sense. I wasn’t…doing anything wrong.”

 

“No no no no no no,” Chris rushed to reassure him, “that was probably the best blow I’ve ever had.”

 

“So you stopped it because you’re what, like, allergic to sexual bliss?”

 

Chris suppressed a giggle, “Who uses the phrase ‘sexual bliss’ anyway?”

 

Zach was not amused, “Chris, on topic.”

 

“Oh right,” Chris fought to control the fit of the sillies he seemed to be experiencing at the moment to move back to his reason for interrupting the sexytimes. “I was in my head, man, I was panicking again. I don’t want it to…be like this…like we’re just two random people. I need to know that it’s us, I think. You and me.” Zach looked utterly confused, like Chris was speaking Klingon or something. “Translation: please no don’t stop, but can we do this face to face?”

 

Zach responded by standing up and walking over to the nightstand and taking out a bottle of what Chris could only assume was lube and a condom. Chris took the opportunity to shift on the bed so that he was lying with his head resting on a couple pillows, his body sinking in to the soft mattress. Zach climbed back onto the bed and kneeled between Chris’s legs, motioning for him to spread them open. He uncapped the lube and spread it over the index and middle finger of his left hand.

 

“What’s that for?” Chris asked.

 

Zach looked at him, amusement crooking the corners of his mouth and causing one eyebrow to rise in a very Spock-like manner. “Preparation,” was all he said.

 

Chris got the point when Zach slid one finger inside his opening. His muscles clenched involuntarily and the simple digit felt way to large to be where it was. “Relax,” Zach breathed softly, “deep breaths. This won’t work if you’re tense.”

 

Chris slowed his breathing and tried to loosen the muscles that had clenched around Zach’s finger, and soon enough he was sliding that finger slowly in and out of Chris’s opening. Zach began to crook his finger just slightly before sliding out, and very soon Chris felt a strangely new and overwhelming pleasure when the digit brushed across his prostate.

 

Relaxing more and more into the pleasure, and careful not to break eye contact with Zach, Chris barely felt it when the other man slid a second finger inside of him and began scissoring and stretching him open. One-handed, Zach opened the condom with his teeth and slid it on.

 

Moments later, Zach removed his fingers completely and Chris groaned at the sudden loss. Quickly, Zach placed his hands on Chris’s hips and lifted him slightly off of the bed so that he could push himself slowly inside. It took all of Chris’s control not to tense at the sudden invasion and uncomfortable feeling of fullness.

 

Zach took a few strokes to find the right angle, but soon enough he was pumping slowly in and out of Chris, once again stimulating the prostate with every thrust. Chris’s body began to adjust to the sensation and soon his whole body was run through with jolt after jolt of delicious pleasure. Zach began to speed up, but was obviously—Chris thought—doing his best to keep a slow and steady rhythm.

 

Through the whole time the pair had managed to maintain eye contact, and so Chris was looking into Zach’s eyes and noticing how they had begun to darken when Zach said, “Oh god, Chris, I’m…,” and Chris felt Zach ride the waves of his orgasm above him.

 

“That was hott,” Chris whispered. So hott, in fact, that when Zach resumed control of his body and reached to finish Chris off it took exactly one and a half strokes before he was spilling hot semen over both of their chests.

 

Zach pulled out of Chris and rolled over to once side, still breathing heavily. Both men took a number of minutes to recover before they cleaned themselves up and climbed back into bed, this time under the covers, both too spent to even care about putting on pajamas or anything that even resembled clothes. They fell asleep facing each other, hands intertwined, knees knocking together, noses mere centimeters apart, soft snores mingling in the air above their heads.

 

***

 

I still don’t have words to describe what it felt like to be with you that first night. It was uncomfortable and awkward, and I know this on an intellectual level. But really, all I can remember is sheer unadulterated bliss.

 

Remember how Zoe made that crack the day afterward that we were both ‘glowing’ and how we both laughed ourselves silly both then and later that night as we went for round two. I didn’t tell you then, but I caught myself actually feeling like I was glowing. I know, it’s a cliché.

 

So yeah, I dream about that night sometimes too. And when I do, more often than not, I wake up the next morning with a sticky patch on my sleep pants. Some mornings it makes me laugh, and sometimes it makes me cry.

 

But what’s important, what I really have to say about that night is that—and I don’t think I knew this then—I think we fell after all. What I can’t figure out, though, is if we walked blindly off the edge, or if we tripped and fell face-first into what lay below.

 

***

 

It didn’t take long before Chris realized that he was in a committed, long-term, monogamous relationship with his best friend. Which, really, was nothing new. He’d been in relationships before; he’d been monogamous before. But he’d never enjoyed it before. He’d never expanded his life to include another person so easily, so effortlessly, and with so much enthusiasm.

 

So when Zach invited him to meet his family (not that Chris hasn’t before, but they had started dating so it had to happen all over again in a completely different way), he didn’t panic or run away or hide, he just smiled and pulled the older man down onto the kitchen floor to make love. And when Zoe referred to Zach as his boyfriend, Chris didn’t flinch, he just laughed and silently asked her to say it again, over and over, as if he’d never get tired of hearing it.

 

Chris came to look forward to nights spent away from his apartment in Zach’s arms, and sometimes he wouldn’t go home for days. And when Zach noticed and nervously offered him space in the closet, he accepted with a grin and a kiss that he wanted to go on for days.

 

He was happy.

 

So he started making plans. Plans for romantic dates and thoughtful gifts. Plans for their six-month anniversary and Zach’s birthday. Plans for dinner parties and couples’ nights out and joint vacations.

 

One Sunday afternoon he shared one of these plans with Zach. They were lying in Zach’s bed, stomachs grumbling because—instead of eating—they’d spent the day having lazy sex and listening to music while either one or both of them slept. They were both awake, sated, and facing each other in bed, curled up with their noses touching and hands clasped between them.

 

“We should go skiing in Colorado for Christmas,” Chris spoke softly into the air between them, eyes closed.

 

Zach didn’t reply right away. Chris just assumed that he was asleep until a minute later when he shifted to lying on his back, pulling his hands away and twining them behind his head, elbows jutting out.

 

Chris sat up, “What? Do you have plans with your other boyfriend or something?” he said, trying to keep the mood light.

 

“Christmas is months away.”

 

“Well, I was looking at cabins the other day and you have to book them pretty far ahead of time if you want the non-crappy ones. Anyway, I thought it’d be fun to work it all out ahead of time, you know. Add to the anticipation.”

 

Zach glanced over at him, face carefully expressionless before fixing his gaze on the ceiling.

 

“Ok, fine,” Chris said, annoyed at Zach’s silence and how it was making him want to pout like a four-year old. “If you don’t like skiing we can go somewhere warmer.” Zach stayed silence. Chris threw up his hands “Or we don’t have to do anything at all. It’s not like it’ll be our first fucking Christmas together or anything.”

 

Zach finally spoke, “I just don’t think going anywhere is a good idea. The paps’ll be all over it.”

 

“Bullshit, we could totally get away with it. I mean, you took me to Pittsburgh for fuck’s sake and that couldn’t be explained away as a ‘friend thing’ like this could.”

 

“It’s not a good idea,” Zach’s voice had become more forceful, on edge.

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s just not.”

 

“That’s not good enough, Zach. You can’t pull that shit with me. You have a reason and you won’t tell me.”

 

“I want to stay here over Christmas.”

 

“That’s bull.”

 

“I don’t like celebrating it.”

 

“Stop lying to me.”

 

“I might have to film.”

 

“I already checked the schedule.”

 

“God damn it, Chris! Just leave it alone. It’s nothing”

 

“I won’t. I don’t know why you won’t tell me and it’s obviously not nothing or you would tell me. Why won’t you tell me?” Chris’s voice grew quieter at the last sentence and he bit his tongue to keep from crying.

 

Zach’s shoulders sank, defeated, “I just don’t think…we should make plans when,” he fell quiet and clamped his lips together as if he were trying to keep the words in. “When we might not be together then.”

 

Chris was blindsided, he didn’t know what to say, all his brainpower seemed to be concentrated on keeping himself breathing, his heart beating. Finally, he choked out, “Are you planning to break up with me?”

 

“No,” Zach looked at him for the first time in minutes, eyes full of sadness.

 

“Are you…” Chris gulped, “dying?”

 

“God no.”

 

“Then why wouldn’t we be together?”

 

Zach pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees.

 

“What is it?” Chris pleaded.

 

“What if you leave me?”

 

Chris laughed, more adrenaline than actual amusement. “Me. Leave you? Why would I leave you?”

 

Zach gripped his knees harder, knuckles going white with the strain, but stayed silent. Chris sighed and moved closer. He wrapped his hand behind Zach’s neck and planted a kiss on his forehead. “You are beautiful, and funny, and smart, and fucking amazing in bed, and I…” Chris paused, unsure of the words hanging in the air, the ones he wasn’t sure he could say. He took a breath and swallowed them down, finishing the sentence as best as he could, “I am so incredibly happy with you that I—Christopher Whitelaw Pine—have no words to express it. And I will be with you at Christmas, and New Years, and next year and the year after that and, god help me, I won’t leave even if you ask me to.”

 

Zach released his grip on his legs and relaxed into Chris’ waiting arms. He didn’t say anything and Chris just held him close, planting kisses into his mussed hair. “So,” he whispered, “Should I make us a reservation?”

 

Later that night, or rather, in the early hours of Monday morning, Chris woke up and Zach was gone. He shot up in bed and searched frantically around the room, heart pounding. In the seconds before his eyes adjusted to the dark and he made out Zach’s frame in the room, Chris feared he was having a panic attack.

 

As soon as he found Zach, Chris climbed out of bed and went up to him. Zach was standing—naked—in front of the floor-length mirror next to the closet. As Chris drew closer he saw Zach’s eyes raking up and down his own form, frantically trying to understand what he saw.

 

“What are you doing?” Chris said softly.

 

“Looking,” Zach’s voice was dry, cracked, and broken.

 

“For what.”

 

“I’m trying to find it.”

 

“Trying to find what?”

 

Zach drew in a ragged breath and let it out slowly, then another, and another. The silence stretched on for minutes. Chris was trying so hard to be patient, to wait for his answer, not to push too hard. Just as he was about to give up and try a different tactic, Zach spoke, “What you see.”

 

Chris didn’t know what to say. He could hardly think of words, and he wasn’t sure that saying anything would help. Instead, he closed the last bit of distance between them. He wrapped his arms around Zach, pressing his own body against the older man’s back. He ran his hands up and down his abdomen and chest, pressing kiss after kiss frantically along his shoulder, neck, and back. He slowed and then stopped, but didn’t let go. Their eyes met in the mirror. “How can you not see it?” Chris said, “It’s right there.”

 

Zach broke the contact and continued staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t speak.

 

***

 

Oh god, I wanted so hard to say the right words that night. To find the three or ten or fifty words to make you see what I saw, understand what I felt. But I didn’t understand it myself, and maybe I still don’t.

 

So I pose the question to you. What should I have said? What should I have done? Would words have been enough? Should I have kissed you? Made love to you? Held you? Could I have done anything to help that night? A part of me hopes that I couldn’t, because that means I didn’t fail you in anyway, that I didn’t make a mistake. But part of me wants to do it all over again and again until I get it right, until I make you see.

 

I tried so hard after that night. To show you how I felt. I couldn’t tell you, I wasn’t there yet. But I could show you. At least, I tried to show you.

 

Clearly it didn’t work.

 

***

 

“Chris, are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Of course I am.”

 

“No, I mean really sure. It—doing this…can be intense.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It’s just—”

 

“Listen, Zach,” Chris interrupted, “I got the latex gloves and the lube and I took that muscle relaxant you mentioned. And for fuck’s sake I spent the entire day researching it on the internet…if reading through 20 forums on fisting.com didn’t scare me off then there’s no way in hell that you’re changing my mind.” Chris paused to catch his breath, pushing his burst of anger away, “Besides, we’re both naked and I think I could hammer a nail with this boner, so it’s way too late to just stop.”

 

“But—”

 

“Put on the glove,” Chris emphasized each word calmly. “Please,” he added.

 

Zach reached for the blue glove lying on the bedspread, he slowly slid his hand into it, smoothing the material over each finger. When he was finished he looked down at his hand and frowned, “What if I hurt you?”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

 

“I trust you.”

 

Zach continued to stare at his hand. He didn’t try and argue anymore, but he made no move to go forward. Chris bit back another burst of anger and took a moment to calm himself, making sure his voice was soft and even when he said, “Just kiss me. Let’s start there.”

 

Chris leaned forward and twined his hands through Zach’s hair. Their lips met. Zach was stiff at first, barely moving, passively accepting the kiss. Chris fought to loosen him up, shifting so that more of their bodies were touching, moaning at the contact. Zach deepened the kiss tentatively, slipping his tongue inside Chris’ mouth and running it across his teeth. Chris moaned again and the kiss grew harder, needier, their teeth clacked together and Chris tasted copper from a misplaced bite on his tongue.

 

Their kiss slowed and softened, and the pair broke apart with a slightly audible smack. Chris smiled, eyes drooping with arousal, his pulse beating through his lips. “Now open the lube.”

 

Zach paused for a moment before he reached for the small bottle by Chris’ knee and uncapping it, the sound almost echoing in the silent room. He squeezed a dollop of the liquid onto one gloved finger and spread it over the length with his other hand. Chris shifted position so that he was lying down, resting his lower back on a pillow they’d arranged earlier, elevating his hips up above the rest of his body, legs spread to either side.

 

Chris gasped as Zach pushed his finger inside of him. He fought the urge to tense up just slightly for fear of scaring Zach off. Another finger joined the first and he moaned as they brushed past his prostate. Zach twisted and scissored his fingers inside of Chris, laboriously stretching him out, repeating the process when a third finger joined.

 

All of Chris’ attention was focused on staying relaxed and not moving too much when the waves of pleasure hit him with the occasional thrust of Zach’s fingers. Still, he managed to blurt out, “I’m ready, Zach, one more.”

 

Zach crammed his pinkie finger in beside the other three, making Chris feel so tight and full that for a second he thought that it wasn’t going to work at all, there was no way Zach’s whole hand was going to fit. But the moment passed and Chris found himself reveling in the sensation of feeling himself stretch around Zach’s hand, feeling his body accommodate to take Zach inside him.

 

“I’m going to put my thumb in now, Chris,” Zach said, “and I need you to tell me if it’s too much.”

 

A single tear leaked out of the corner of Chris’ eye and he surreptitiously wiped it away before Zach could notice. But Zach was concentrating on what he was doing as he flattened his thumb beneath his four fingers and slowly, carefully, inched his hand all the way inside.

 

Chris let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding but inhaled sharply again as Zach began massaging his prostate. He started to slide his arm slowly in and out, barely moving, but sending shockwaves of pleasure trailing up Chris’ body. “Oh god,” Chris managed to pant out. “This is so good, don’t stop, please.” He reached out toward Zach’s free hand, resting on Chris’ thigh. He gripped it tightly, and when he felt Zach’s accompanying squeeze, he lost it. Chris’ orgasm rocked through him, cum spurting over his chest.

 

It took minutes for Chris to come down off of his earth-shattering release. When he did, Zach flattened his fingers once again and drew out of Chris, meeting much less resistance than he had on the way in. Chris motioned for Zach to come and lie down next to him, and with a few strokes he brought the older man to his own release, staining the fancy new bed sheets.

 

“Goddamnit!” Chris yelled, and then burst into giggles, “We made a mess didn’t we?”

 

Zach eyed him quizzically for a moment before breaking into his own round of uncontrollable laughter. “In retrospect, we probably could have foregone the Egyptian cotton for Target brand for just this night.”

 

Chris laughed harder and pulled Zach into his arms. After a while they calmed, but neither of them tried to get up, they just lay together in silence.

 

“That was…” Chris began, “…epic.”

 

Zach smiled.

 

“I just don’t even have words.”

 

“Wow. Let me get out my calendar. This is something for the history books. Chris Pine falls speechless.”

 

Chris punched him halfheartedly on the arm and they fell silent again.

 

“I actually do have words. I have three of them for you.” Zach’s expression was blank, and if he knew what was coming next, he didn’t show it. “I love you.”

 

Chris was expecting some sort of reaction right away, and he had prepared himself for almost anything. Anything except for silence. For a distinct lack of acknowledgement of what he just said. “Zach,” he ventured, “this is the part where you freak out, or you—”

 

“I love you too.”

 

This time Chris did find himself well and truly speechless.

 

That is, until three hours later, when Zach shook him gently awake. “Chris,” he said, movements becoming more frantic. “Chris!”

 

“Wha’?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why do you…,” Zach swallowed, “…love me.”

 

“I just do.”

 

“Please,” Zach said the desperation in his voice palpable, “I need to know why.”

 

Chris sighed and tried not to let his exasperation show, tried to stay patient. “Because you’re perfect. Because you wear fugly hats and Where’s Waldo shirts. Because you think you have a sexy singing voice even though you can’t hit a key. I love you because you do stupid shit like make videos of pouring milk on your friend’s head and you like to pay 8 bucks for a cup of coffee. We fit, Zach. And…and my life is just that much better with you in it.”

 

Zach had on his pensive face, but yielded to Chris’ half-annoyed answer. They settled in to sleep again, Chris spooning against Zach’s back.

 

“Chris,” Zach whispered, “Say it again.”

 

“I love you, Zachary John Quinto.”

 

Chris heard, rather than saw Zach’s smile. Contented, he let himself sink lower and lower into sleep. But before he completely surrendered consciousness, he heard a voice—Zach’s he reasoned, who else? Chris took a moment to pick out the exact words, but when he did, the bottom fell out of his stomach and he used every single ounce of control in his body to keep from betraying the fact that he wasn’t asleep.

 

The words seemed to float in the air, playing over and over in Chris’ now-too-awake brain: “I don’t believe you.”

 

***

 

I gave everything over to you that night. I want you to know this in case that somehow passed you by. Me—who spent years compulsively holding back in relationship after relationship. I offered it up freely; you didn’t even have to ask.

 

But you didn’t trust it, or you didn’t trust me, or maybe you didn’t trust us. Hell, probably all three. I think I hate you for that a little bit.

 

But that’s not what I’m writing this letter to tell you. I’m writing this to say that I am still completely and totally batshit in love with you. I was then and—no matter where my life goes from here—I will keep on loving you.

 

That’s why I left, you know. Because if I’d stayed, then I would have stopped loving you. And there’s no way that I was going to let that happen. No way I was going to give that up.

 

So I’m sitting here, writing this stupid fucking pointless letter in the hopes that somehow, someway, it’ll bridge the void that’s opened up between us.

 

And right now, with all my heart, I’m screaming across the divide.

 

“I love you, Zach.”

 

Please believe me.

**Author's Note:**

> The writer is a notoriously insecure creature. If the story is good, she most definitely needs to hear it. If it’s crap, she definitely needs to hear it so she can delete it and pretend she never wrote it. In summary, please comment.


End file.
